


The Way That Seems Right to a Man

by mia kulpah (nina_monk)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bruce Banner-centric, Gen, Not A Fix-It, Post-Endgame, Science Bros, Sort of happy ending, Written after Endgame and just, well I saw a plot and ran with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_monk/pseuds/mia%20kulpah
Summary: Bruce is fine. Absolutely. There's nothing wrong, and everything is well. All is right with the world. Everything is damn hunky dory. Or: Three People Who Told Bruce the Truth, One Who Beat Around It, And One Who Guessed it.





	The Way That Seems Right to a Man

**Author's Note:**

> As per the usual here, spoilers for Endgame. I have my theories about Bruce, and I wanted to add my Endgame story to the pile. Barely edited, mistakes may abound, etc.

“Is it because it’s safer?”

 

Bruce looked down (because he could; these days, he no longer needed to look up to anyone). “What?”

 

Carol didn’t blink, and he found it uncomfortable. “Your...’hulkness,’ I guess. For lack of another word.”

 

He made a face and scratched the back of his neck; maybe she’d been off-world so long that her words got all jumbled, like an aid worker returning from an extended journey in the field. Sometimes he remembered what that was like. “I’m afraid I’m not understanding--are you asking if  _ I’m _ safe? I assure you, the gamma rays are quite contained, and--”

 

Carol shook her head. “No. You’re all covered up. Cocooned.” Her expression hardened and her eyes wandered, critically eyeing his larger form like an art dealer assessing a faux Monet. “Like an M&M. You’re protecting yourself, but why? What are you afraid of?”

 

Bruce mimicked her frown but she kept going. “When I first arrived, I saw you. The real you. Not...” And she waved indiscriminately at Bruce’s new form. “This. Because ‘this’ is a smokescreen.”

 

He half-chuckled but felt a twinge of the old anger raging inside him. The Hulk personna was still there, regardless of how well they’d integrated. He supposed he could pass as human if he wanted to and still maintain the emotions and everything else he’d strived hard to maintain these past few years. But why would he? He was recognized, now. Not at all feared.

 

Kids loved him.

 

“No, no. It’s not,” he huffed. “And lady, I hate to say it, but it’s not as if you’ve known me that long. You don’t have the right--”

 

“Whatever, Bruce,” Carol said, rolling her eyes. She spun on her heel and headed for the door. “Friendly advice, that’s all. From one who lived in the smokescreen for too long.”

 

She left him sputtering and unbelievably frustrated. But as usual he kept it down, inside. Cool and contained.

 

But she’d still gotten under his skin, like no one had in a very long time.

 

***

 

“Uncle Rhodey, help!” 

 

Rhodes smiled fondly and tapped Morgan’s nose. “You know how to tie your shoes. Stop pretending like you don’t.”

 

Morgan pouted and wiggled her foot at him as the laces flopped awkwardly on the sides of her saddle shoes. “But I like it when  _ you  _ do it,” she mumbled. “You do it better than Uncle Happy.”

 

“All right. But last time, okay? Can’t let everyone know I’m getting soft.” He tickled her tummy and she let out a howl that brought a brief smile to Bruce’s face. He hadn’t meant to intrude on their private moment - he’d only wanted a few sandwiches from the fridge - but seeing Morgan was one of the few bright moments left to them. She carried the light wherever she went. The substitute light, the substitute terrible privilege weighing on their shoulders.

 

“It’s still not your fault,” Rhodey hummed, lacing Morgan’s shoe in the way she liked best. He looped the sides, making small airplane noises and cartoonish gestures. Bruce wasn’t even sure Rhodes had meant him until the Colonel’s eyes rose to meet his, after making fancy loops in Morgan’s shoes. “We couldn’t be everywhere at once.”

 

Rhodey hugged Morgan’s feet. “There ya go, munchkin.”

 

“Thanks, Uncle Rhodey!” She gave him a quick kiss and bounced off the couch running to the next room. “I can’t wait to show Daddy when he gets back!”

 

Rhodey’s smile faltered and his throat bobbed awkwardly. “She still thinks he’s on a trip,” he murmured at her fleeting back. His voice quavered, belying his stoic expression. “She’s too young to really grasp it, you know? It’s sweet, but...”

 

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and blinked too rapidly. “Anyway.” His sigh shuddered as he stretched one hand over the length of the couch and hitched his bum leg over the breakroom table. “You heard me, right? That it wasn’t your fault?”

 

Bruce layered more meat on his sandwich between swaths of mayo. The bread really was too small, but if he piled it high enough it almost satisfied him for a few hours. “I heard you,” he muttered. He stuffed the sandwich in his mouth, but it was more like a small bite. One sandwich would never be enough. “But it doesn’t matter if I agree with you, or not. The end was still the same.”

 

Rhodey nodded, watching a group of birds crowd the newly built compound window. “So if it doesn’t matter,” Rhodey said softly, “why are you still wearing armor?”

 

Bruce didn’t say anything. He kept making sandwiches for himself, listening to the gentle clink of his knife against the side of the mayo jar, until Rhodey fished out the sigh he’d been holding and limped next door.

  
  


***

 

“Was this...?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Bruce carefully twisted the tiny piece of jewelry between his thumb and forefinger, afraid of dropping it and losing it. “Are you...are you sure you want me to have this? I would think--”

 

“No.” Clint was adamant and shoved Bruce’s hands closer to his chest. He’d only begun to smile again after reconnecting with his family, but his haunted countenance overwhelmed any positive emotions he expressed. Bruce doubted Hawkeye’d ever be completely whole again. “She...she would’ve wanted you to have it. She still loved you. Even at the end.”

 

“She loved you too, Clint.” Bruce weathered the chain in his thick fingers. He couldn’t imagine it fitting anywhere on his body. The chain was too thin and tiny for his smallest fingers. And he had to be careful. The slightest pressure from him would bend it beyond repair.

 

“Not like you.” Clint held out his hand and Bruce carefully gave it back. “She carried enough of a torch for you. Despite what you thought.”

 

Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of Clint’s declaration. “We were two different people,” he said instead. “That...it wasn’t. We weren’t.” His words fumbled around, searching for meaning and answers in turbulent seas of doubt. “We changed.”

 

“No,” Clint said quietly. He weathered the links in Tasha’s necklace in his fingers, pushing across each tiny circlet like a rosary litany. “ _ You _ changed, Bruce. And you never changed back. It’s comforting, I know,” he said, rushing over his words before Bruce could argue. A dark, wet chuckle rose like bile from his throat. “God, do I know. We all wear masks and covers to hide and protect ourselves.”

 

He placed the arrow necklace inside a box and handed it to Bruce. “But you’ve got this. Whenever you’re ready to take off your mask, just know she already forgave you. See ya, Big Green.”

 

Bruce watched Clint lope carefully away, like a wolf gauging dangerous ground. He hadn’t realized he’d been squeezing the box, and he bit back a swear at the small dent he’d made in it.

 

**

 

“Sooo--? What do you think?”

 

He grinned and slowly turned so she could look at him head to toe. She held her hand to her mouth and bit back a giggle, and Bruce couldn’t help but grin after hearing her laughter. They hadn’t seen each other in so long - it’d been a ridiculous error on his part. They should have reconnected long ago.

 

“Oh, Bruce,” she sighed. Her pale cheeks flushed a pretty pink, even on the screen and thousands of miles apart. He felt young again. “Of course you integrated. I’m actually really happy for you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Betty Ross’ smile stayed put as her eyes took in his green form. “So tell me what it’s like? Is it permanent? Your bodies?”

 

“Well, I could get small,” he explained. The suit he wore for their chat cost a pretty penny but fit like a dream. It stretched and adjusted to his body as he moved, the atoms subtly hugging every part of him. “And if I did, the suit would adjust to fit me. Tony and I...well.” He trailed off, not wanting to bum Betty out. They’d worked on the fabric together. He wished he’d had more time with him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Betty whispered. 

 

Bruce shrugged, waved off her apology. “It’s okay. Tony saved the world. He died a hero.” At least a side effect of integration had been a muting of his heavier emotions. He didn’t have to be upset, if he didn’t want to be. “But,” he said, changing the subject. “To further answer your question, I’m still ‘me.’ We’re an ‘us’ I guess. But whether I stay big and green or small and puny we’ll have the same mind regardless of the body. We agreed that extremes weren’t conducive to our functionality in society.”

 

Betty’s brow furrowed. “Extremes?”

 

“Emotional extremes. We both had temper tantrums,” Bruce said, grinning. “Rage came out in different ways. Hulk expressed it. Banner repressed.”

 

“Hmm.” Bruce smiled a little, enjoying the subtle changes of Betty’s expression as she worked the puzzle out in her mind. He missed seeing it. “And you’re totally integrated? Essentially ‘Bruce’?”

 

“Yep,” Bruce said. “The perfect man, inside and out. Just like Erskine predicted.”

 

“But you were already perfect,” Betty whispered. Her lips quivered slightly.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“Nothing,” she said. Her cheeks perked back up, squinching her eyes. “I’m happy for you, that’s all. Whether you stay big or not, I’m happy that you’re finally happy. And you don’t need to hide from the government, or the military--”

 

“Or your dad,” Bruce finished. 

 

“Or Daddy,” she said, softly exhaling. “Well. Anyway. I absolutely understand why you’re staying big. The benefits are evident.”

 

Bruce finally heard it. “But?” He prompted.

 

“Hm? Oh, no! No reservations. I think you’re doing what you need to do, to stay happy. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

 

He pursed his lips. “It sounds as if you think there’s another alternative.”

 

“Does it?” She looked surprised, but it felt false.  “I don’t know? I mean, is there a downside?”

 

Bruce made a face. “I don’t see one, except maybe trying to function in a world meant for smaller bodies.” He snorted. “Some of my friends think I’m protecting myself, I guess.”

 

“Really?”

 

“But that’s not it. Not at all.”

 

Betty smiled big again, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I’m happy that you’re finally okay with who you are. I missed you. All of you.”

 

“Me too.”

 

They spoke for another hour before Betty explained that she had dinner plans with her husband, but Bruce couldn’t help feeling he’d missed something important in their exchange.

 

**

 

“ ‘ Tell them how my life is one big adventure,” Bruce quietly sang, bopping along to the tune playing in the lab. He’d always enjoyed Peter Gabriel. “ ‘And always they're amazed, when I show them round my house’--”

 

“Friday, mute, please?”

 

Bruce blinked and put the tiny beaker carefully back on the lab table.  “Pepper--?” It wasn’t like her to visit his lab. He figured visiting him, or any lab, would be too painful for her. At least until she felt emotionally ready.

 

“Sorry, Bruce.” He gazed at her fondly. Her freckles stood in sharp contrast to her fair skin; she was still too pale and he wondered absently if she were eating enough. “I...” She rolled her lips, hiding a smile. “I forgot how much time you two spent in labs, together. You took on some of his bad habits.”

 

Bruce huffed. “Music’s too loud?”

 

“It’s fine. I guess I should be grateful it’s not AC/DC.”

 

He joined her small laugh and ignored it when her laugh choked down a sob. “I didn’t think anyone was here today,“ he continued, “so I cranked it. Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m glad you’re here. I’m just wondering why - do you need someone to babysit Morgan?”

 

Pepper shook her head. “Morgan’s with my mother today. I.” She sighed and shook herself a little, straightened her shoulders. “I have something. From Tony. He wanted you to have this, in case...”

 

“In case anything happened to him.”

 

Pepper nodded sharply and folded the thumb drive into his giant hands. “He recorded it a year after he got back from space, after you went off, and.”  _ Integrated _ , he heard, unspoken, although Pepper didn’t say it.

 

Bruce swallowed. “Thank you.”

 

Pepper nodded again and turned from the room. “I’m glad you’re working with us again,” she sniffed, but he couldn’t see her face and couldn’t tell if she were crying. And whether or not she meant working with the remaining Avengers or working with what was left of SI, he wasn’t sure.

 

Sighing, Bruce waited until the door closed behind her before he took the tiny drive and carefully plugged it into the nearest terminal. “Don’t start it yet, Friday.” He lumbered to the nearest reinforced chair before collapsing leadenly into it. He knew what it was, or at least he thought he knew. But it wasn’t like Tony knew he was going to die; it would’ve been right before he decided to retire from the superhero life. After they’d gone their separate ways, when Thor lopped off Thanos’ head. 

 

“Friday,” he said. He hunched forward and folded his hands in his lap.  “I’m ready. Go ahead and play it.”

 

“ _ Hey, Big Guy _ .”

 

Bruce almost smiled. “Hey, Tony.” It wasn’t like Tony could hear him, but it felt right to talk back to the recording. “I miss you.”

 

_ “Listen. Before this gets all mushy, because obvs something happened, right? I mean. Please don’t tell me I bit it because a tree fell on me in the piney woods. God, we’re really--never thought I’d retire from the city, y’know? But there isn’t much left for us anymore. We need to live our lives, right?” _

 

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

 

_ “Damn. I said I wasn’t gonna get mushy. So, I wanted to say, Big G. I get it. I do. You surprised the hell out of me, when I saw the new you on TV. Doin’ good in the world, yeah? No one on your back. Makin’ bank, showin’ off, livin’ your best life. Doin’ you.” _ Tony paused, rifled a hand through his hair and squinted at the camera.  _ “I’ve known you a lotta years, man. I know you went through a lot. Your life fucking hurt. I know it did. I...look. I hope you’re not running into a new shell, that’s all.” _

 

“I’m not,” Bruce told his hands.

 

_ “You’ll probably deny you are, probably denying it right now. The fame, the attention. It’s a drug, and I drank the Kool-Aid. Some days I still do. Or did. Damn tenses.” _

 

“I’m fine, Tony.”

 

_ “What I’m saying is, you were _ already  _ good, Bruce. You don’t have to be the hero 24/7. You be the hero by knowing when to step back and be...okay with your life. With all of it. To not try and atone for all the bad things. To accept the good, accept the bad, accept the mediocre. You don’t have to become anyone special to do that. And if you think you do, well...don’t. What’s done was done and you live with it, and move on. Don’t destroy who you were or are out of fear or a dark past. You’re the best fuckin’ scientist on the planet, because apparently I can’t take top billing any more and I refuse to let--” _

 

_ “Tony--” _

 

Tony turned from the camera and Bruce finally looked up. His hands were suspiciously damp, as were his cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to feel. Not like this.

_ Dumb Banner,  _ Bruce heard in his head, along with a small chuckle. When did Hulk get so smart, anyway?

 

_ “Hell--sorry, dearest? Honeybear?” _ Tony called over his shoulder, and a very pregnant Pepper waddled into part of the frame.

 

_ “I thought you were going into town for ice cream.” _

 

_ “Honey. I bought two pints yesterday--” _

 

_ “Yes, and they’re gone, and now I’m craving the Hulk flavor.” _

 

Tony grinned and made eye-contact with the camera.  _ “The Hulka Hulka Burnin’ Fudge?” _

 

Bruce rolled his eyes but laughed at Tony’s expression, even as he wiped his eyes. Hm. His hands were pale. And everything around him...bigger than before.

 

_ “Yes! They brought it back. I saw it on the shelf last week--wait, are you talking to someone?” _

 

Tony reached up and adjusted the camera. It jiggled a little and revealed more of Pepper, less of Tony.  _ “Just sayin’ hi to an old friend.” _

 

_ “Oh. Hi, old friend,” _ Pepper said, waving to the camera.  _ “But Tony has to go shopping now. Our daughter wants her ice cream. Now.” _

 

Tony winked at the camera.  _ “Sorry. See ya around, BG. Or not.” _ He kissed his fingertips and patted the screen, just before the feed went dark. 

 

Bruce inhaled deeply and suddenly...cried. Bawled. He curled up on the bench and let all of the past overwhelm him, because he’d never had the chance to mourn or feel. It hurt, it hurt so goddamn much. Every part of him ached. But. He knew. He knew he needed to, in order to become truly whole. Healed.

 

He wasn’t sure if an hour’d gone by, or a few minutes. But the feed abruptly cut back on, and Bruce found himself frowning and rubbing his eyes. Was there more--?

 

“ _ Hey _ ,” Tony said quietly.  _ “I know we didn’t exactly finish our conversation, but I’ve got an idea I’ve been working on. You feel like continuing some of my AI work, Big Guy? Friday needs a brother to keep her sane, and SI needs to plan for the future, for whenever things do get back on track. I think you’re the only man for the job.” _

 

Bruce grinned. “Of course.” He had no idea how working on a project with a Tony from the past would work. Or how he could possibly fulfill Tony’s future dreams. But he’d find a way.

 

“It’ll be just like old times.”

 


End file.
